red
by duskendales
Summary: She might have fallen, if Phillip hadn't reached her in a flash, warm hands and gentle kisses on her forehead. "I saved you," he said with a broad smile, but Aurora looked past his shoulder, to the three knights who were bounding her Captain and pushing him down the gangplank. - (Aurora/Hook), (Aurora/Phillip)


They shouldn't have come back, the obvious fact that she had ignored in her damned naivety. _We have to rebuild my kingdom_, she would say, _they will greet me like the queen I am, there is no need for you to worry. _He had listened, after days of persuasions and sweet promises on her part. Had she really believed that? Had she believed that her kingdom would accept a pirate for their queen's campanion? (She might have, but beneath the sweet naive princess there was a stolen girl who had touched the spinning wheel, the girl who had lost everything she had, and could never trust again – and that girl told her to stop dreaming and keep running; Aurora didn't listen.)

Knights were filling the deck, sharp swords pointed in their direction, and she could see Phillip with eyes burning and sunbeams in his hair, running to her through the sea of steel. She reached out her hand for Killian, a reassuring gesture to calm him down and quiet the pirate in him, but he shoved it away. Instead she could feel his hooked arm roughly encircling her waist and the cold feel of a blade at her neck.

"Step down, princeling," Hook hissed. "Or your princess will be delivered in pieces."

Aurora closed her eyes, motionless against his hard body. Her head was spinning and bile rose in her throat at the thought of her stupidity; she was nothing but a naïve little girl after all. Was she asleep all along?

She might have fallen, if Phillip hadn't reached her in a flash, warm hands and gentle kisses on her forehead. "I saved you," he said with a broad smile, but Aurora looked past his shoulder, to the three knights who were bounding her Captain and pushing him down the gangplank.

"You did." And her heart ripped itself in two, because once more, it was all her fault.

* * *

The chill of the dungeon seeped into her bones – it stiffened her limbs as she turned the key with trembling fingers, barely able to grip the metal. Killian moved forward, his good hand pushing the creaking door open.

He looked so impassive, so stone cold and calm, guiltless and proud. It made her want to cry, so she just dug her nails into her palm and raised her head high.

"As a queen I advise you to stay away from this land. If you ever dare to come back, I shall be the one to enforce judgment on you."

He sneered at that, his knees bending in a mock bow, but she didn't pay it much heed. "But as a woman," her voice dropped, "I shall miss you terribly."

"Did you really think it would work out?" he asked bluntly, eyes serious and stormy blue like the winter ocean.

"Yes," and it was barely a whisper now, as she tried to memorize every inch of his being and lock it in her heart for all the days to come. "But you never did."

He left. (Took her heart with him.)

For seven nights tears soaked her pillows, and her aunts combed her hair and whispered promises of safety and strong castle walls that would protect her from the evil pirate.

On the eight day her face was dry.

Bluebirds were singing behind her window and the sun was high up, when Prince Phillip asked her to be his wife.

* * *

She lived her life the way she was supposed to – day after day. She put her kingdom together, tended to her people, mended the broken pieces. The mornings became sunny again, when she woke up next to Phillip's warm body, his gentle arms curled around her waist. She danced around the castle, skirts floating around her like wings and picked summer roses for her little girl. Her heart swelled with pride when she saw her husband twirling the little princess in the air, in the afternoons sitting her on his lap and telling stories about lands far away. She yearned for the evenings, when Phillip's kisses would make her float above ground and come alive with a declaration of love whispered against her neck.

But nights were never hers.

At night she would dream of the ocean, of the black ship cutting through the water like a knife, of a dark man who snatched away her heart and locked it in a box. She dreamed of his blue eyes and rough hands when they touched places Phillip's would never dare to. She dreamed of being young and free, about the way the sea breeze felt on her bare skin and about Captain's kisses she would never feel again.

Her Captain. (Lost at sea.)

Mornings were her saviors – the sunlight hitting her eyes, and her little daughter jumping onto the bed, waking her father with a bell-like laugh.

Aurora would shoo away the ghosts and pull the girl to her heart, all blue and dark, and whisper "I love you, dearest Wendy," and the girl would kiss her cheeks and say it back.

* * *

She stood there, wide-eyed and trembling, with her hair out of order and lashes wet with tears. Captain Hook was leaning lazily against the balcony railing, blue eyes dancing around her face and lips curling ever-so-slightly.

"Bring my children back," she said, almost pleading. Her lip trembled around the words, for she was so sick with worry, so desperate for help she could not give them herself.

The Captain's brow furrowed in mock confusion. "And why should I do that?"

It hurt much more than she would have expected.

"Because I need you to, Killian." Her voice was trembling so badly, she doubted he understood her at all. "If I ever meant anything to you, help me. This one time."

His face darkened as he stepped closer. "Captain Hook never acts from the good of his heart, Your Highness. You must always pay a price."

"Then what do you want? Gold, land, jewels? I can give it all up for my children to be safe."

Hook's lips curled into a smile that might have been mistaken for a nice one, if only she didn't know the blackness of his heart. "Oh, but my price is right here, milady." He moved closer yet, so close she could see her own reflection in his eyes, terribly blue and wicked. She wanted to tell him about her dreams, about her longing, about the way her hands were tingling just to touch him, feel him warm and alive. But she stayed still, the red of her lips pressed into a tight line. "It's here, in the right hand corner of your mouth."

She raised her eyes to his, disbelief painted across her face. But he continued to smile that strange smile, urging her to make her choice. "You can have anything I can give."

He crashed his lips to hers, arms encircling her waist in a shattering grip, as she clutched onto his coat, onto his hair and neck as if she were drowning. Hundreds of days and nights swam before her eyes, past emptiness filling with hope and life. She lost the ability to form coherent thoughts, because he was burning her inside out, her lips ablaze and lungs short of breath. Only when she feared she would break into pieces, he let her go.

"I will come back before the sunrise," he said, breathing slightly laboured and eyes flashing. "I will bring them safe and sound, Your Highness."

Her knees wobbled beneath her as she watched him go, the burn of his lips still present on her skin.


End file.
